


Brothers In Arms

by zelda_zee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-08
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balthazar hijacks Castiel to continue their conversation from 6.03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers In Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://philomel.livejournal.com/profile)[**philomel**](http://philomel.livejournal.com/) for betaing.

Castiel finds himself in a field – a field of green grass dotted with small yellow flowers. There are trees – old gnarled oaks – and butterflies and the sun is shining and, somewhere, he can hear birds singing.

It is an undeniably lovely place, but it is not where he had planned to be. His intention, upon leaving the manse where he had found Balthazar, was to return to the war that was raging in Heaven. This field is more heavenly than heaven is now, or possibly ever was.

He knows who brought him here. “Balthazar.”

“Cas.”

Castiel turns to see Balthazar leaning against an oak. His pose is casual, his smile relaxed, but Castiel can sense tension beneath the placid surface of the vessel he has adopted.

“You hijacked me,” Castiel says, eyes narrowing

“A minor redirection.” Balthazar cocks his head. “I found I was not quite ready to say farewell.”

“How did you –?”

Balthazar waves the question away. “The staff has many uses.” He smiles at Castiel and gestures around him. “Do you like it here? I thought it might be a relief, after all that you have been through recently.”

“It was unwise to bring me here,” Castiel says. “Our debts are even. There is nothing to prevent me striking you down.”

“And yet I've got a feeling you won’t. I know you, Cas. You won’t hurt me, not unless you’re forced to. Anyway, I’d like to see you try. Oh now, don’t be like that,” Balthazar says when Castiel’s glare intensifies. “I just want to talk, that’s all. Just ‘chew the fat’ as your little monkey friends so charmingly say.”

“I think we've said everything that we have to say to each other.” Castiel crosses his arms, giving Balthazar his most remote stare. Balthazar just takes it in, smiling fondly back at Castiel.

“Do you? Well, perhaps you have said everything you have to say. You never were prone to verbosity.”

“Whereas you, on the other hand....”

“Yes, me. I never shut up, is that what you were going to say?”

“You were talkative,” Castiel says. _But_ , he wants to add, _but I miss our conversations_.

Balthazar hears him anyway and chuckles.

“I do not understand you,” Castiel says. “You know what you’re doing is wrong, but you don’t care. It is so far beneath you, Balthazar.” _If you put it aside, we can be as we were_ , Castiel thinks, but that is not right. He is not as he was when he and Balthazar were close – he cannot return to being a good soldier, following orders without doubt, content with the simple fellowship of his comrades when his work was done.

“We have both changed so much,” Balthazar says, and he is not smiling anymore. He pushes himself off the trunk of the oak and comes to stand before Castiel. He is too close by human standards. A human would complain of the “invasion of space” that Dean often mentions, but Castiel does not feel anything of the kind. With Balthazar so near, Castiel can feel the warmth of his aura, a pleasurable buzz against his own.

“And yet.” Balthazar touches Castiel’s cheek, fingers curious against his skin. “You are much the same, despite everything. It does me good to see you.” His voice drops to a murmur. “To remember. You were so dear to me.”

“And you to me,” Castiel’s voice catches in his throat and the words emerge as a whisper. His skin tingles where Balthazar is touching him. No one has touched him in this manner in his human form and he is not prepared for the strangeness of it, how there is only one level of sensation and yet it is so intense. Castiel’s eyes fall closed as Balthazar slides his hand into his hair, but they snap open when he feels Balthazar’s lips on his.

He stares at Balthazar for a moment, shocked, before he jerks away. He can feel fickle human blood heating his face. These vessels are so ungovernable, the body reacting in ways unpredictable and uncontrollable. He looks down, avoiding Balthazar’s eyes.

“Come on, love,” Balthazar says, low and coaxing. “Once more, for old time’s sake.”

“Those times are past,” Castiel says. “There is no need to revisit them.”

“Look at me, Castiel,” Balthazar says. “Please,” he adds, when Castiel doesn’t comply, and at that request Castiel cannot resist meeting Balthazar’s eyes. Balthazar in this body is not so different from his old friend – sad and strong, the sense of humor that Castiel is familiar with evident in the curve of the vessel’s mouth, intelligence visible in the light of deep understanding in the eyes. But the bitterness and the nihilism are new. Castiel feels sorrow to see them, though he can sympathize with their cause. The Apocalypse has taken its toll on them all, with God’s continued absence the worst of it.

“I missed you,” Balthazar says emphatically. “I _miss_ you.”

“You should not have let me believe you were dead,” Castiel says. “That was cruel.”

“I know.” Balthazar’s voice is very soft, his hand beneath Castiel’s chin, stroking his jaw, gentle. “I’m sorry. But you would have given me away. I know you, Castiel. You can’t lie.”

“I can,” Castiel says, drawing back. He’s not sure why it is important that Balthazar understand this. He should feel shame at it rather than to state it as if it is something of which to be proud. “I have. I have lied, and done much worse in the time since we fought side by side.”

Balthazar smiles. “Are you trying to convince me of how far you’ve fallen? Because I think I’ve got you beat in that regard, brother.”

Castiel looks away, frustrated. His hands have tightened into fists and he consciously relaxes them. “You should not do this, Balthazar,” he says. His voice is tight. Despite his best efforts, he is unable to control his emotions while he is in this form. “You have built a wall between us that will keep us apart for eternity.” He had never imagined that he would live out his existence without Balthazar as his friend. But then, so much of his existence is not as he had imagined it would be.

“What is more important than your faith?” Castiel continues. “Do you value these cheap, human pleasures more than you do your soul? More than your family?”

Balthazar sighs, shakes his head. “It is not pleasure that I value,” Balthazar says. “It is freedom. Surely you of all people must understand that.”

“I have never been free.”

Balthazar looks at him sadly. “Is that so?”

“You are not free either. You are only fooling yourself into believing that you are.”

“Oh, but I am. Free to do whatever I want. Free to pursue anything I desire, and right now, what I desire is –” He pulls Castiel to him with a sudden movement, faster than the eye can follow. Castiel opens his mouth to protest and Balthazar kisses him.

It’s the strangest sensation, hot and wet and shockingly intimate, especially when Balthazar’s tongue enters his mouth. It feels _wrong_ to Castiel’s angelic sensibilities – too physical, too base, too crude. It’s disgusting, yet he doesn’t pull away and he’s not sure why. Perhaps it is that, for the first time in a very long time, with Balthazar’s arms around him, Castiel doesn’t feel alone.

He doesn’t kiss Balthazar, but he lets himself be kissed, standing stock still with his mouth and eyes open. After a few moments, Balthazar draws back enough to look at him.

“All that time you were down here with those pretty Winchester boys and you never did this?” Castiel closes his mouth and shakes his head silently. “You weren’t curious?”

“Human sexual interactions are messy and chaotic. I preferred to avoid them.”

“But messy and chaotic can be so much fun, Castiel. You truly are missing out.”

“I prefer _our_ way of intimacy,” Castiel says quietly. “The meeting of pure spirit is more to my taste.”

“Is it?” Balthazar gives him a long look, considering. He sighs. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He reaches out and touches Castiel’s cheek with his fingertips, as if he can’t quite help himself. His touch is light and it makes Castiel’s skin break into goosebumps, makes him shiver. Balthazar tilts his head, bird-like, and slowly lifts his hand away from Castiel’s face. He’s watching Castiel closely, and Castiel only has time to wonder what this intense attention presages when he feels it. Unseen tendrils of Balthazar’s psychic energy – his _spirit_ \- touch him, sliding softly over his body. Castiel can feel them probe gently at the invisible boundaries he has erected around that part of him that houses his grace.

He looks at Balthazar, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh,” Balthazar says. “Let me. You’ll like it.”

And Castiel lets him, even though he knows he shouldn’t, that nothing good can come of it. He should not do this with Balthazar, not now, not with what he has become. But Balthazar loved him once – loves him still, on some level. He is _familiar_ , and he knows Castiel in a way very few ever have. In the face of all of that, Castiel simply doesn’t have the will to resist.

Balthazar kisses him again and it’s the same unfamiliar, uncomfortable sensation, only joined to it is the feeling of Balthazar’s grace pressing close against his own, sharp, clean, hot, and Castiel gasps as he’s filled with the ecstatic sensation of their spirits melding, edges blurring between them. He’s dimly aware that they are still kissing and that he is making desperate noises and that, somehow, Balthazar’s tongue is in his mouth and it doesn’t seem disgusting anymore. It seems a perfect physical expression of what they are doing on a wholly unphysical level. He thinks he hears Balthazar groan or maybe laugh but he is distracted by the sensation of their graces entwining, the strong urge rising up in him to sink into the comfort of this spiritual embrace.

He can feel Balthazar’s wildness, his exaltation. That is no different from how it was before. Balthazar was always wild, always prone to undisciplined expressions of joy. Together, they were a strange pair of friends, so different. Balthazar teased him for being so reserved, always fondly, always gently, but Castiel was never very good at teasing back. It has only been since his sojourn on Earth that he has learned to appreciate humor. Now he would be able to return Balthazar’s teasing, but it is too late for that.

Castiel loses awareness of the field of flowers and the trees around them and the breeze that brushes his skin. He forgets about his vessel, may as well have shed his suit and shoes and trench coat for all that he feels them – may as well have shed his skin. Perhaps he does, leaving the dross of earthly existence for an instant or an eon, to fully join with another being as he hasn’t in far too long.

It’s Balthazar who separates them, pulling away from Castiel until their graces are again two distinct entities. Castiel tries to follow, shamefully needy. Balthazar doesn’t relent, and when Castiel opens his eyes they are standing on firm ground, in their human forms again, and Balthazar’s hand is under his elbow, supporting him even though he doesn’t look all that steady on his feet himself.

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Castiel says. His voice is hoarse and for a moment it is difficult to focus his eyes. “In these vessels. I didn’t know they could withstand the strain.”

“Neither did I.” Balthazar smiles. “But it seemed worth the risk.”

“I must go,” Castiel says wearily, sensing the pull to Heaven, angelic voices calling him.

“A pity.” Balthazar releases him, takes a few steps and stands with his back to Castiel. “We could have such fun, you and I. We could make this world ours, Castiel. We could raise it up or bring it to its knees.” He turns, and there is nothing angelic about the smile on his face. “Now isn’t that the least bit tempting?”

Castiel sighs. He is not tempted; he feels only disappointment at Balthazar’s words.

“I have stood by your side on the field of battle many times,” Castiel says. “And I have loved you more than I should have. I never thought to see the day that we would face each other as adversaries.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

Castiel’s eyes narrow. “Do not prevaricate, Balthazar. You know that the path that you are on leads to only one destination.”

Balthazar comes close again, reaches up to trace the line of Castiel’s cheekbone, across his forehead, down his nose, two fingers pressing gently to Castiel’s lips. “But it is a path of my own choosing.” He smiles sadly. “And that makes all the difference.”

Castiel feels him go, from the formation of intent to the powerful surge of gray-tinged wings, all in a fraction of an instant, a thousandth of the blink of an eye. He cannot see Balthazar’s departure, but he senses it, as he senses the growing distance between them, widening with every second.

  



End file.
